Happiness is a Warm Gun
by Ginger Outlaw
Summary: Back - reworking old plot.   Private Eva Harris is selected during field nurse training to become a sniper for Easy Company.   Rated M: For future violence, language, and who knows what the hell else.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everybody.

So I'm going to be honest and admit that I haven't been the best author. I deleted two stories from before (I Want to Hold You Hand and Happiness is a Warm Gun). Now, I'm attempting to redeem myself.

I'm using the same title as as before and the same character but I'm reworking the plot. I'm currently in my first semester of college and extremely busy but I'm hoping that I will have time to write - both to relieve my own stress and to entertain some fans of BoB.

Alright, enough of my rambling - let the intro begin. :o)

* * *

Colonel Sink sat at his desk shuffling papers – muttering almost incomprehensibly to himself. He looked up briefly at the young woman in front of him.

She wore civilian clothes – black trousers, the newest trend amongst young girls, with a cream-colored button up shirt tucked in. Her strawberry blonde hair was loose – natural curls framing her face. Blood red lips stained the cigarette she was smoking and as she exhaled smoke curled around her features blurring them slightly.

_She won't last a day in combat, especially not amongst all the men_, he thought silently.

He then settled the papers in front of him and stood – looking out the window into the morning sun to survey his men that were participating in calisthenics.

Facing away from her he murmured, "I want you to know that this is unheard of; a woman in combat – for Christ's sake – what's next?"

"Dear God – you're right sir. We might even start thinking for ourselves."

Sink turned rather quickly – not expecting such a blatant retort.

Those wide blue eyes made her look innocent – incapable of killing anything. He found it hard to believe she was more accurate with a sniper rifle than any man he'd ever commanded. He pursed his lips – attempting to ignore her sarcastic remark – something he easily would have reprimanded any male soldier for – and took his seat.

"Miss. Harris -"

"Private Harris, sir."

"Private Harris, I apologize for my -"

A crisp knock resounded on the Colonel's office door.

"Yes? Who is it?" Sink exhaled loudly, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

"Lt. Sobel, sir."

"Ah. Yes – come in Lt."

A gangly man briskly strode in and stood at attention before the Colonel. His nose was hooked – like some sort of hawk – and his dark hair, in contrast to his sallow skin, was oily black.

"At ease. What is it Lt.?"

Sobel glanced haughtily over at the young woman seated across from Sobel. She stared back at him disinterestedly. Perhaps she was Sink's daughter – he had mentioned her but Sobel never imagined she would be so beautiful. Lost in thought, he was reawakened by Sink's impatient voice.

"Well on with it Lt." He grumbled.

A bit flushed Sobel began, "Sir, I came to check on the status of the new soldier. I heard he was arriving today."

"She," The woman mumbled.

"Excuse me ma'am?"

She took one last drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out and stood – extending her hand to Sobel, thoroughly enjoying the confused look painted upon his face.

"Private Eva Harris." She introduced herself.

He grasped her hand lightly – mouth slightly a gape.

"Lt. Sobel, I am the new soldier." Eva smirked.

* * *

There you go. You've met or perhaps re-met Eva. Hope you liked it! If you did comments would be appreciated - they're really what encourages me to write faster!

P.S. Next chapter will be way longer - I promise!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi. I'm back. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

In the balmy heat of a Florida morning, twenty-nine young women gathered. They sleepily stared forward and waited, inhaling the distinctive earthy scents of boggy marsh wetlands. A few drifted into quiet conversations but the vast majority remained silent.

From behind approached their C.O., Lieutenant Johnson. He was tall, standing six feet, and handsome – blonde hair, blue eyes, and a strongly sculpted jaw. If it wasn't for his murderously cruel attitude the nurses would have all admired him. In his sturdy arms he carried an object in the unmistakable shape of a rifle.

"Good morning ladies. I hope you're ready for a day of vigorous activities."

Lt. Johnson rubbed his chin as he considered the women before him.

"Ladies, do any of you know what this is?" He shouted as he thrust the gun into the air above.

The nurses looked from one to another – wondering just what exactly this lesson would involve.

"A gun, sir?" One ventured.

"Thank you, Nurse Cathleen. Clearly this is a gun."

His voice was heavy with sarcasm. He paused, waiting, but there was only silence, save the sound of a hawk.

"No one? Not even Nurse Eva has something to say?"

He parted his way through the nurses until he came face to face with Eva.

"Yes, Lt. Johnson?"

Her voice had a slight twang – a hint of her southern origins.

As the C.O. stared down at her, he couldn't help but notice the way her white poplin dress fit tighter than any of the other nurses' did – hugging the curves of her petite frame. He eyed the two top buttons she had accidentally left undone - and the tiny bit of cleavage that peeked through. Eyes trailing over the rest over her body, he reluctantly looked back up at her face. Her doe-eyes glared up at him – no hint of amusement in them.

Vicious, mocking, and stubborn – she was the only nurse that refused to be compliant. Perhaps she believed her insubordinate attitude would make him respect her more. S_he's mistaken_, he thought gruffly. Eva's rebellious behavior simply increased his need to control her. As a result, she was the main object of his attention and was constantly being quizzed, drilled, or punished.

She stared up at Johnson. His eyes glittered with dark humor.

"It's a M1903 Springfield rifle with a scope, sir."

Johnson's jaw clenched. His expression did not reflect his surprise at her knowledge – although his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Ladies, Eva is right." He called – not moving from his spot in front of her as he continued his lecture.

"I don't care that you are nurses. You are members of the Army and therefore you require at least basic knowledge of one of our most commonly used weapons."

His eyes regularly wandered back to Eva as he continued. She stared about- clearly not listening to his speech. This, he felt, was blatant disrespect.

"Nurse Eva, you look bored. Are you bored?" He inquired in a rather savage voice.

"No."

He turned away from the nurses.

"Since you feel the need to not pay attention then I have to assume that you must already know everything about the Springfield – including how to accurately use it. Is that correct?"

She was silent for a moment.

"Yes."

Lt. Johnson froze.

"Well then, maybe you could demonstrate for all of us." He growled dangerously.

Eva stepped forward and extended a hand toward the rifle. Lt. Johnson, face red in rage, handed the gun to her.

"There's no ammo in it."

The Lt.'s jaw clenched tighter and he grudgingly handed her a magazine of five bullets from his pocket. She loaded the gun.

"What's my mark, sir?" She asked.

Lt. Johnson gazed out into the misty field before them.

"There," he pointed – the dark smile returning to his face.

Some 400 yards away a young buck was barely visible as he calmly foraged the sweet grass.

Whispers came from the nurses behind Eva.

"That poor deer," mumbled one woman.

Another nodded in silent agreement.

Eva steadied the Springfield and stared down the Weaver telescopic sight. Everything about the gun was familiar – from the evenly distributed weight to the wooden finish. She quickly sighted the deer and set her crosshairs on the nape of its neck. An accurate shot would sever the deer's spinal cord – crippling it instantly.

She exhaled and pulled the trigger. The sharp unmistakable crack of the rifle echoed through the peaceful field. Thirty pairs of eyes watched as the buck staggered and unceremoniously fell to his death.

Eva smiled as she looked into the disbelieving face of the lieutenant. His mouth had fallen slightly agape. Noticing her glance, he quickly gathered his composure and grasped the Springfield from her hands.

"Ladies, you may leave for the mess hall. I expect you to meet me at Hangar 2 for our meeting with flight nurse Genie at 0900."

The women turned to leave – shamelessly discussing their newest topic of gossip, the little nurse from Alabama - Eva Harris.

"Not you, Harris."

Eva eyed Lt. Johnson. He was no longer wearing his usual self-satisfied smirk but instead looked thoughtful.

"Did you need me?" She asked after a few moments of silence had passed.

He looked startled, as though he had forgotten her presence.

"Harris, have you ever used a Springfield before?"

"Clearly,"

Ignoring her snide remark the Lt. continued, "When?"

"I've been using one since I was about seven."

Lt. Johnson stared at her inquisitively – another question clearly playing on his lips.

"My father was in WW1," She began.

"When he came home he brought his Springfield with him. During the depression he sold all of his guns except the Springfield. Times were rough so we lived off the land and hunted for our food. My mother died during childbirth - he never had a son so he raised me up like one."

The lieutenant quietly reflected upon this – the thoughtful expression remaining on his face.

"I take it this wasn't your first time shooting a deer then?"

"Obviously not,"

"You mean, 'No, sir.'" Johnson corrected her.

"No, _sir_." Eva repeated grudgingly – nearly spitting the words as though they were venomous.

"Are most of your shots that accurate?"

"Yes, _sir." _

"Well Harris, I might just have an interesting opportunity for you then."

The lieutenant smirked and walked away – leaving Eva to contemplate his mysterious words.

* * *

If you liked it then let me know by reviewing. :o)


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Gah! I'm really sorry for being such a horrible author, but so much has happened in my life since I first started writing this story. I'm now a Junior in college and all of my time has been devoted to working and going to school.

Why did I pick this story back up? Well, every now and then I would get an e-mail notification that someone had added my story to their Favorites List. And honestly, that's very uplifting for me to think that people are still enjoying this story. I can't completely promise that this story will continue regularly, but I will try my hardest!

ENJOY! :)

* * *

Not too far into the Alabama wilderness was a small wooden cabin. The cabin was roughly hewn, yet sturdy in every facet of the word. Inside, on a rickety cot, laid a man and beside him sat his loyal daughter.

Her heart was heavy as she looked into the weak eyes of her dying father. Their color, once bright blue, had degenerated into a dull grey – reminiscent of a dusty mirror. He grasped her hand lightly.

"Eva," He whispered.

The man's voice was rough but raw with emotion.

"Hush Poppa. Stay quiet."

He paused and coughed – hacking crimson into a tattered rag that was stained from previous use.

"Eva, I want you to know how much I love you."

His eyes were desperate as he clawed at the edges of consciousness.

"I never said it much," He continued.

A single tear streaked down his cheek.

"I know Poppa, I know."

And then he was gone.

* * *

She was understated and overwhelmed – clothed in the memory of her mother, a black silk dress.

In a solemn voice the pastor continued,

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

_Amen_.

Silently the congregation slipped away – mingling amongst the other graves – perhaps remembering forgotten loved ones – perhaps discussing what they would do that Sunday – already forgetting the man who had lost his life.

His absence was insignificant to all but a few – namely his young daughter Eva.

The pastor stood graveside and gathered his meager belongings – a bible, a fistful of paper black with the ink of his sermon, and his dignity. He looked at the girl. Hard for words, he clumsily placed a large hand on her shoulder and in a warm southern drawl said only what he thought would comfort her.

"Eva, darlin', you know your papa loved you very much. He was an upstanding war hero and any young woman, like yourself, should be proud to be his daughter."

Her lips pursed and she nodded – avoiding eye contact.

"Thank you, sir." She mumbled.

He gently patted her on the back and then set off behind his flock.

She didn't even feel the first few drops of rain as they careened downwards – senses dulled from pain.

What did this girl, barely a woman, have left?

She was the sole heiress to the Harris fortune – a crumbling house, a couple hundred dollars, and a dozen or so empty whiskey bottles.

She was tired of her Podunk town. She was tired of being the "Harris girl."

Wearily she walked, like a Queen of the Dead, through the moistened graves and through the rusty cemetery gate. She weaved through the empty streets of her tiny town. The grimy glass of the storefronts hadn't been scrubbed clean yet by the rain, but their bold red "Closed" signs were clear. Like a moth, she gravitated toward the one lit building.

"Join the U.S. Army!" Colorful posters depicting strong men and beautiful women stared down at the soaking wet girl, urging her to come in and give Uncle Sam a hand. She obliged.

The recruiter, an older veteran with glasses, looked surprised when she walked in.

"For God's sake, you're going to catch cold if walk around in the rain like that!" He scolded.

"Sir," She mumbled.

"I'd like to join the Army."

The man paused and studied the girl. She looked athletic and intelligent, an excellent fit for the Army Nurse Corps.

"Sit down Miss. I have an opportunity for you and we have a lot to discuss."

* * *

Thanks for reading!


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